


Break Me

by TreacleTart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Community: HPFT, Drinking, F/M, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Making Up, Marauders, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 00:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6881707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TreacleTart/pseuds/TreacleTart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don’t come here again after you’ve had too much to drink thinking that a few well placed words will change my mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break Me

  
Beautiful Banner by aurevoir @ TDA!

It’s close to midnight and I’m standing at your front door trying to convince myself to knock. I know you’ll only tell me to go home, but I’m just sloshed enough to think that I can convince you otherwise.

The firewhiskey coursing through my veins emboldens me and I rap my knuckles against the heavy wooden door. I could just walk in, but at this time of night I worry that you might wake in a panic and accidentally hex me.

I wait, but there’s only silence. My knuckles pound against the rough wood once again. This time the portrait of the mother you hate so vehemently wakes and her screams echo through the house.

A light switches on in the topmost portion of the house and I hear you shout “Shut up, you bloody piece of excrement!”

Your heavy footsteps pound down the stairs. Just before you reach the door, you pause and I can hear a loud shuffling occasionally punctuated with shrieks of “blood traitor filth”.

Finally, it stops and you call out “Who’s there? Tell me who you are or I’ll blast you off of this bloody doorstep!”

“Pads, it’s me,” I return. Instantly, I wonder if you can hear the drunkenness in my voice.

The door springs open and you pull me through it before I’ve even realized what’s happening. Panic is clearly etched in the lines of your face. Your normally dead eyes are alive with fear and worry.

“What is it?” you ask as you brace yourself for bad news. “Is everything alright? Is something wrong with Harry?”

“No. Everything’s alright. Harry’s fine as far as I know,” I murmur.

This is clearly not the answer you were expecting and it seems to take a moment for it to sink in. As the panic subsides, so does the spark in your eyes. Soon they are back to their usual cold, emotionless state.

“What is it then? Are you alright?”

I suck in a deep breath and try to regain a bit of composure. I stuff my hands into my pockets so you won’t see them shake.

“I miss you is all. I miss us. I miss what we used to be and I want it back,” I say trying to convey the sincerity of my feelings. I worry that the slur of my words might make you doubt my conviction.

A resigned sigh escapes you as you turn your back on me and head to the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” I ask, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

The only response I get is “To make some tea.”

By the time that I enter the kitchen, you’ve already got the kettle on the stove and two mugs in your hand.

“Sit down, Moony. We need to talk.”

It takes me a minute to move. I’m caught up in analyzing the creases in your brow and the bags under your eyes. In the harsh light of the kitchen, I realize that you look like hell or at least like you’re living in it.

I open my mouth in an attempt to tell you all of the things that are swirling around in my head, but nothing comes out. There just isn’t any language adequate for me to express how badly I need you.

For a moment, the look you’re giving me makes me think that you might feel the same way, but then you speak and my hopes are dashed.

“Moony, we can’t keep doing this,” you start. I can see the pain in your eyes and I feel guilty for making you do this yet again.

“You know that I love you and that won’t ever change, but I’m in no shape to be in a relationship now. That’s not something that’s going to change. You need better than what I have to offer.”

A mug of tea floats down in front of me. I take a large gulp of it and choke as the hot liquid burns my throat.

“I don’t care,” I manage to sputter. “I’ll take whatever you can give me.”

You pound your fist against the table. It shakes so violently that my tea sloshes over the edges of my mug.

“Damn it, Moony. Don’t you think I know that? That’s exactly why I have to say no. Azkaban broke something in me that can’t be fixed and it would be selfish for me to pretend otherwise. You’ll only hurt yourself trying to fix me.”

My head hangs towards the table and my eyes focus intently on its scarred wood. There’s nothing particularly interesting about it, but it shields me from having to meet your eyes. When I finally speak, it’s barely a whisper. 

“But I’m miserable without you.”

“You’re miserable because you’re alone. If you’d stop being such a stubborn git, you’d have someone to keep you company.”

“It’s not the same. Tonks is nice, but she isn’t you.”

Tension hangs heavy over the room as we go back and forth. I’m so frustrated that I want to take you by the shoulders and shake you. I want to make you see that I’d give you every part of me to make you happy.

“Why not?” you ask.

“She’s so much younger than me and I’m so broken. I’m damaged in ways that she can’t fathom. I just can’t inflict that on her. She has so much life ahead of her and I can’t be there dragging her down.”

A bark like laugh erupts from your mouth.

“That’s exactly what I’ve been saying to you. You’re such a bloody hypocrite!”

My head is spinning.

“You don’t get it. I’m damaged and so are you. You know what I’ve been through. Hell, we’ve been through a lot of it together. We could help each other. We could heal each other.”

You rub your eyes with the palms or your hands and exhale slowly. 

“I’m afraid there’s no healing for me, Moony.”

I protest and the debate continues into unseemly hours of the night. We go back and forth until you explode with fury.

“I’m done with this, Remus! Don’t come here again after you’ve had too much to drink thinking that a few well placed words will change my mind. The next time you’re feeling lonely, go to Tonks. Let her be there for you because I just can’t do this anymore.”

 

Two days later you’re dead and I’m in shambles. 

I’m drinking too much and feeling particularly lonely when I remember our last fight. The words go to Tonks buzz loudly in my mind.

A vague idea tugs at me. I throw on some semi-clean clothes and quickly apparate from my flat. When the squeezing sensation stops a quaint little cottage stands in front of me.

Before I can give it another thought, I walk up the front step and pound loudly on the door. This time there is no cursing portrait or pounding footsteps. 

Instead, a light turns on and the door swings open. Tonks stands before me, dressed only in a nightgown. She’s smiling, but her eyes look confused and tired.

“What are you doing here, Remus?”

“Making Sirius happy,” I say as I walk straight through the front door.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there,
> 
> This story was written for the Inspired By A Song That Your Parents Probably Listened To Challenge and the song that I chose was Piece of My Heart by Janis Joplin. It’s lyrics inspired this story.
> 
> If you have a moment, please leave a comment below and let me know what you thought.
> 
> Thank you as always for reading! 
> 
> ~Kaitlin/TreacleTart


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